The Cassandra Syndrome
by Eyes Wings Blades
Summary: Tragedy is a staple of all forbidden loves, but never once had she thought that it would be by her own hand. Now, reborn, she has one chance to right all of those wrongs. If only her warnings were heard.
1. Prologue

Wings: Hello! I'm so glad Blades suggested a joint fic as this has come out really really well – well I think so anyway. Thanks for reading and I wish you enjoy our characters' journey as much as we do writing it. Cheesy yes, but true! Cannot wait for comments I hope we can pull this off.

Blades: Ano...Wings, you did read what we wrote, right? Just kidding, just kidding! This was very enjoyable to write, and it promises to be entertaining sinces Wings is better then I am with the comedy. I like the dark stuff way to much.

Enjoy!

* * *

**The Cassandra Syndrome**

Prologue

* * *

All she could think of was her vow.

As a priestess of Atlantis, she had promised many things.

It was in the Emperor's court she had broken most of them, to her self-despair. But out of everything she had promised, she had never believed that she would break the vow of protecting life. She stared at the sai in her hand, feeling the strangely comforting grip of it in her hand. Her vow no longer applied, she would take the Emperor's sin onto herself and save Gaea from the torment it had descended into.

The popping of the fire as it burned in the brazier behind her was comforting, and she welcomed the feeling of the blistering heat at her back, warming her pristine gi. It helped to take her mind off that sour feeling that churned in her stomach. Already her shoulders felt weighed down, as if she could feel that sacred burden already settling there. Closing her emerald eyes she tried not to think. She tried to banish his smoldering cinnamon eyes from her mind, tried to forget the wrinkled hands that had gratefully clasped hers the days she had taken her vows, tried to forget...

She swallowed. She refused to let herself think his name and ran her thumb along the keen edge of the sai, half wishing that it would draw her blood.

With all her attempts at focusing on the burden ahead of her, she could only remember with irony how she had come across the sai.

Her powers enabled her to feel the roughness of his fingers sliding over hers, curling both against the metal.

His breath against her neck, murmuring and gesturing how to use it, his chest pressed against her back. Never did she imagine she would be using a weapon in this manner. She could only hope that in sacrificing herself he would get the freedom he had fought for, the freedom Gaea deserved. The thought steeled her as she turned the corner and saw the generals leaving the throne room from their nightly grovelling. A flash of silver hair caught her eye, making her heart clench in fear at how entirely unplanned this was. Aware of how undeserving she was, she only asked Jichia that in punishment the silver-haired General would be merciful.

Her stomach plunged when he turned toward her, and for a moment she had a rather difficult time breathing. He broke away from the others to approach her, a rare smile on his face. Her answering smile was automatic, and she prayed that her nervousness didn't show.

His eyes were darker then usual, and she felt a pang, of guilt perhaps. It had been such a long time since she had seen his eyes so void of blood lust. She allowed him to lift her hand and tried not to flinch when his lips brushed her knuckles. His rust colored eyes searched her, and his brow drew together in concern.

"You are pale."

She only heard what felt like an echo of his words reach her. Her only thoughts were on the man behind the door and the knife that sang to obstruct his four humours. If it was found on her, there would be no respite.

"Treason…," she gasped, her hand shaking in the palm of his, unaware of his eyes widening in reverence and astonishment.

"Midoriiroko, have you seen something?" She felt his grip on her hand tighten and met his gaze worriedly. A prickling sensation crawled up her back at the connection her mind made between his query and her aspiration. She could only nod stiffly and respond as she attempted to pull her wrist out of his grasp.

"I must see the Emperor," she declared, praying to every watching spirit to stop her voice from wavering.

He nodded, and she fought hard not to tremble when his eyes brightened to the crimson curse of blood lust that was his birth right. Her nails digging half moons into her pale skin, she tried hard to keep herself from panicking.

He turned silently, giving her precious seconds to tuck the knife into the folds of her hakama, once again silently imploring those above. She felt something cool trickle down her palms and knew it was blood. It somehow brought her back to the situation at hand as she saw the stern profile of her friend, saddened by his thirst for carnage as he somehow associated treason with pleasure.

Would he be happy in performing the same rituals to her?

The threshold held more fear for her than the first time she had crossed it. Her silver-haired protector would soon get his righteous kill as she watched him roll back his shoulders almost languidly in anticipation to be dispatched. She seemed only capable of fear, of everything that would happen; and a tinge of hope, that the consequences would be worthy of her action. And remembrance, of _his_ eyes. The eyes that had brought her soul back to her body and out of the Emperor's clutches. She wished for his happiness, not dwelling on what it would consist of, but that he would be free.

Her freedom belonged to the sai that would grant it. The doors were opened and she saw the General turn back to her, his gaze feasting on her as the provider of his joy. She looked over his shoulder, past the heavy vermillion curtains to where her future lay. The heavy wood enlaced behind her and Dilandau turned forward and pushed the curtains aside, holding it for her to join him and bow.

As she pulled her back straight and felt the cool metal press through the gi, she flinched.

For a moment she forgot to breathe, in that terrifying half a moment when those crimson cursed eyes slid over to look at her, his mouth forming a question.

A part of her was thinking, really, what a shame it was that he was the way he was because his lips actually looked quite nice. Not as good as— It was only through years of training that she was able to stop the blush that warmed her cheeks at the thoughts of _him_.

By Jichia, what was she doing thinking of _that_ now?!

She raised the long sleeve of her gi on instinct, praying that it wasn't stained, to hide the flash of silver that would have surely caught his attention.

"Are," his eyes followed down the line of her throat to the collar of her gi when she swallowed rather thickly, and dread filled her at the way those crimson eyes narrowed, "you—"

Then there was a gasp and the frightening sound of metal against metal as his head whipped forward. His legs straightened out of the partial bow; his hand was at his hip, unsheathing his sword in a blur before she could even start to think to form a response to his unspoken question. Her vision swam as he darted from her side, and she didn't need to look up to see who else was in the room. She had grown used to his ki, an aura that comforted in a way she had never known. She didn't need to look up to recognize the mop of unruly hair or the body with the lean muscles that her fingers had run over countless times. She stumbled with a gasp, her heart pounding as the pain seared her head and the images assaulted her.

It stung her that this vision, unlike many previous, was sharp and clear as she watched distraught from her viewpoint in front of the throne as both men, one whose silvery hair was the by-product of his immense age, thrust their blades through _him_ with differing strength. And yet it looked like a hand slicing through water, with such ease. But her focus reigned on the burgundy gaze that pierced her in the silence. One blade was hauled out of his body causing him to fall to his knees, his face shielded by his bangs, bangs she itched to comb back with her fingers.

A scream tore through the room, resonating up to the high ceiling, curling around the drapes of material.

She was astounded to see her own self dash towards the fallen body and pull it into her arms, as it lifelessly slumped against her.

She opened her eyes, hissing at the sounds of metal ringing as it hit its brother. Her hands clenched in anger she had never known, pulling herself off the ground from her knees. Her nails scraping against the floor as she bolted towards the destiny she would create.

For a brief moment she felt like she understood him. Her anger, her denial, at what she had just seen...she understood his bloodlust. She understood his hatred. She understood why the brief moments of comfort that she could offer would never be enough for the one called Escaflowne.

The oaths that had plagued her conscience so, no longer registered in her mind as she rushed forward, pulling the small, insufficient sai from her gi. Her zorii slapped against the marble floor and she heard her two boys pause. She met his smoldering cinnamon eyes, but she didn't have time to be hurt by the annoyance she saw there. She turned her attention to the other one, the one she had known since she was a child. Gathering every inch of her will, she turned it into adrenalin as she latched onto his arm.

"You will not!" she hissed as she slid her small dagger into that minute exposed strip of flesh on his belly. His hand gripped the white cotton of her gi, and his sword fell to the ground with a loud clang. Already she was twisting trying to find the Emperor, to locate Escaflowne once more. Her emerald eyes slid to the left and there she saw him.

His face was contorted in pain as his back slammed against the wall crashing over the lit brazier. Oil sloshed over its golden sides as it fell to the floor, the smallest of flames starting to lick at the polished wood. The Emperor gasped, a hand reached for his chest as he gulped in the air. Although she couldn't see it, she could _see_ the insane gleam in his beady black eyes. His thinning, silvery hair swayed in a tight braid as he moved forward, his sword arm surprisingly steady.

For a brief moment she hoped that he would retreat, withdraw to a place that he would assume was of relative safety. Surely, even the Emperor wouldn't be foolish to approach a warrior that was so great that he was often called the God of War. Of course, the Emperor was many things. As the nature of his title indicated he was arrogant and a supreme tyrant. Despite his frail appearance there was something about his eyes that made him terrifying. There were a whole slew of words that could be used to describe the old man, and it appeared that fool could be added to that list.

A vice-like grip curled around the suddenly bare flesh of her right arm and she turned her head to look at the man her mother had always hoped that she would marry, a man she _might_ have married if not for her vows.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" His crimson eyes had darkened slightly, to the more healthy, sane shade of rust.

She saw no anger or rage.

Just confusion. The same look of puzzled curiosity that he had given her when she slid her sai into his belly. Remembering her only weapon her eyes slid down and saw, indeed, the weapon was still stuck there.

"Why?" She bit the inside of her cheek and turned away from him. Her gaze falling further until it landed on his forgotten blade. She was distinctly aware of the Emperor muttering as he approached Escaflowne, but her eyes were riveted on the lone blade. The fingers on her shoulder tightened and her eyes flew back to meet the General's.

She placed her bleeding hand gently over his, hissing slightly when his flesh came in contact with her wound. Tears pricked at her eyes at the way the eyes of her oldest friend narrowed in concern.

"I'm sorry," She murmured, her emerald eyes soft, "But this can't go on. I can't allow more people to suffer, I just can't."

His brow drew closer together in further confusion. "But your vows..."

She gave him a sad smile, her eyes glossy with unshed tears, before bending down to pick up his sword.

"This is my burden." She whispered, and tore her arm free of his strong grip. She stumbled a bit as she adjusted her own grip on the sword's hilt. It was certainly a great deal heavier than the ceremonial bow that she was used to wielding. She stopped for a moment and tried to lift it up properly as she had seen Escaflowne often do, but a snarl had her freezing.

"No." She whispered when she saw the Emperor raise his sword high.

The desire to kill never reached her. It was to protect him that she stepped away from her bleeding friend to stave off her soul leaving her again. Amending her grip one final time she rushed towards the wall where the Emperor had his back to her, panting. She had to finish this before he reached Escaflowne and played out her vision. Destiny would change in her hands for her own selfishness and this time it was justified.

She held the tip of the sword so that it was inches away from the Emperor's shoulder blade. She wasn't terrified of the possibility that the Emperor would suddenly turn. Even if he did sense her and try to pull away it would do no good. Even if at the very worse that she was only able to wound him, it would be impossible for this tyrant to escape alive. For the briefest moment she locked eyes with Escaflowne as he stared up at her over the Emperor's shoulder, his eyes widening.

She heard the General's roar of denial, but she pushed the sword through what she could only pray was the Emperor's heart. There was a strange squelching, and the old man let out an odd gurgling sound that was unlike anything that she had ever heard before. It was only then, when her stolen sword was sticking through his chest that the Emperor seemed to be aware of her presence. He started to turn, and she panicked, pulling back on the sword so that it withdrew from his body with a sickeningly wet sound.

His lips were wet with blood, and the tip of his beard was stained scarlet.

They twisted as he opened his mouth to speak, spitting out blood as he did so. She could only glance down to see the blood that stained her hands and gi, and a blissful numbness took over as her lord spoke.

"A priestess isn't so innocent after all." His smile was bitter. "I always wondered when you would be foolish enough to—" He coughed and more blood splattered onto her gi. "You will suffer greatly, my dear."

Her eyes widened when she noticed that dark blood seeping through his golden cloak was a little higher then it should have been.

The Emperor's thin lips spread into a grimace."It seems you missed, my little priestess."

She felt incapable of saying anything as his knees shuddered with the loss of energy and he groaned as her blow had brought an end to it all. A disdainful smile spread across his lips as he heard her gasp painfully at what he fell against, his knees sinking to the ground.

Her vow shattered in her ringing ears as the Emperor fell to one side, freeing Gaea from his affliction. But she was no longer watching him, her hands allowing the sword to clatter to the ground by her feet, lost to her consciousness.

Her eyes locked with a cinnamon pair that showed agony that was physical, but neither paid attention to it, both concentrating on their emotional pain.

She was agonizingly aware of the scarlet blood that stained her fingers. It was warm and sticky, and just the thought of it made her ill, but she fought down the impending nausea and took a step forward, her hands reaching out for him.

His eyes left hers for a moment and flicked down to look at her hands. His lips twisted into…something. She had never quite seen an expression like that on Escaflowne's face before. Was he offended by the blood? But that didn't make sense. After all, how many times had he made his way to her room at the latest hours of the night after a long campaign to have her help scrub away the blood that crusted his fingers? Why was he looking at her like that?

Then the metal of his armor rattled as he slid down the wall to collapse on the floor and her unspoken questions didn't seem so important.

His eyes seemed to be fixated by the blood that streamed along the silver rivulets of his armour, equal to the shine of the rubies encrusted on the plates. She nearly tripped over her zorii in her rush to get to his side. She sank to her knees, her hand brushing over the segmented armor plates near the wound. Her fingers pressed against his bare skin almost painfully to try and stem the bleeding.

"Please…" she breathed, starting to pull in her ki to appease his heartbeat and lessen the flow. Her head ached from the vision's after effects and her trembling fingers slid against the laceration, causing her to lose concentration at who was in front of her. It was never easy trying to ease the wounded into the afterlife, but she could not let him die. She had broken her vow for him and in her own hands was the rebuke from the gods themselves.

She looked back up to his eyes, terrified of the moment when they would no longer be his, hearing his breathing start to struggle, his wound hissing each time he inhaled.

"PLEASE!" She screamed, feeling her own body start to struggle with the ki she was gathering inside herself and pushing towards him. He seemed to make no effort to help her.

"Don't you dare." Her voice cracked and a faint 'ping' reached her ears as her tears slipped down her cheeks and onto the polished silver of his breastplate. "You can't. You can't."

He looked as if he was about to say something, but if it was in protest or not she couldn't tell. He opened as mouth and it was then that she saw his teeth were stained with blood. It dribbled over his chin and splattered her gi as he tried to speak.

Her tears fell faster. "Save your strength." The blood on the fingers that she pressed to his lips was just beginning to crust over as it dried. Taking a deep, shaky breath she tried to summon as much energy as she could, tried to channel it into his pained form.

She could only vaguely recall the lessons the old priestess had given her about binding. It was used to bind the ki of a dying mind to hers until the healers could arrive. Her blood turned to ice at the realization.

There would be no healers here for him. A man who had tried to kill his emperor.

"_No._ No. No. No. No. _No! No!_" Her eyes were desperate as her other hand reached up to thread through his unruly locks. "No. No. No." She shook her head violently as she spoke, angling her body closer so that she could cradle his pained form. "You can't." She whispered harshly. "You can't."

She watched him cough, then wince at the pain he was suffering. Focusing more on keeping him alive than mourning — he wasn't dead _yet _— she fumbled along his side for the buckles and knots that held his armor in place. As she pulled one by one apart she felt the sensation of his breathing against her throat deteriorate. Her vision blurred from her tear stained eyelashes and she couldn't meet his gaze. Managing to rip off the breastplate she whimpered in horror at the dark stain that had spread down his red laced up tunic, the blood starting to gush from his wound, turning darker and thicker.

"Don't do this!" She whispered, her face pressed against the hollow of his neck, hoping her body's warmth would forestall the inevitable. Her breath matched his in shudders, but tears contorted hers, whereas his had been caused by her own hands. Pulling back slightly to see his face, she pressed her lips to his sweat-drenched forehead, his hair smelling slightly of the scented oil he had fallen in. She placed her hands under each of his ears, preventing his neck from slumping against the wall.

"Look at me." She pleaded, blinking rapidly to clear her tears so she could see him clearly. But he seemed only capable of staring at her dazedly, and in her state she was incapable of understanding what his gaze meant.

His cinnamon eyes were slightly glazed, a look she had only seen once or twice. Like the time he had gotten very drunk…

* * *

_She fought the urge to crinkle her nose when his breath brushed her cheek. The scent of alcohol, an overpowering mixture of sake and vino, was rather repulsive. _

_Not that it mattered. _

_Hadn't she already told him she wasn't speaking to him? _

_Pressing her palms against his shoulders she shoved him away and glared at him, opening her mouth to give him her usual lecture about the sins of alcohol and also – how dare he call her a coquette!_

_Then his face crumpled in a decidedly uncharacteristic fashion, and his eyes became glossy with tears. Moving with the speed and grace of a seasoned warrior he wrapped his arms around her hard enough to mould her body to his. It was with great difficulty that she fought the way her skin tingled at the contact, and the rising blush that burned her cheeks. _

_It was also getting a little difficult to breathe._

_"I'm sorry!" He sobbed, his tears soaking the collar of her gi, his fingers curling round her waist._

* * *

His fingers clasped her wrist that had moved from the side of his neck down to his elbow, jolting her out of her reverie.

She could feel the dried liquid that pressed between their palms, the blood on hers lighter and thinner. He took a shuddering breath and groaned in pain as the receding blood flow surged once more from the wound in his tunic that she had stolen so many times at night. But this time the blood didn't match the rubies on his armour or his tunic. The dense fluid was black.

"ESCAFLOWNE!" She wailed, her voice shaking the wispy drapes in the chamber, the rafters creaking as if in mourning with her.

His head tilted slightly, his gaze changing and she knew he was reprimanding her for not calling him what he had asked her to.

But she couldn't. The name he had told her to call him was meant for them, and them alone, in moments she could cherish and hold against the Emperor's coldness.

Not in this situation.

She had always been considered to be rather gifted when it came to reading other people. The old priestess had always said that it was an indispensable talent for their trade vocation.

Escaflowne was the only one who could ever keep his feelings hidden from her, even with her unique gifts. Whenever he got into a heated argument with the General, she always had such a hard time getting him to calm down. He just didn't respond to her gift like most people. It was, she supposed, a trait of his bloodline. Perhaps not that dissimilar from the way the General's bloodlust was a trait from his.

Her knuckles turned white as she clasped his hand, as if that action alone would bind him to her.

"What am I going to do?" She whispered, her voice cracking with the frustration of everything.

How could she apologize?

How could she tell him that she never meant for it to happen this way? How could she tell him that she was stupid, and sorry, and damn it they were supposed to fly into the sunset together (almost) like the characters in the silly books that the court ladies read. She lowered her head and pressed her lips to his — oh, how they were starting to get so cold — and fear lanced her heart when he didn't respond.

This wasn't right.

This…

Her entire body went rigid when she recognized the telltale noise of heavy boots against polished wood.

Tears fell in abundance and obscured her vision.

The footfalls stopped behind her as she pulled the warrior against her, running her fingers through his thick messy hair, damp from blood and her tears. She couldn't think about anything but the man in front of her, and how she had to keep him warm, waiting for the man behind to strike.

A hand fell on her shoulder, gripping it tightly and a hand was placed over her mouth. She took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes to wait for the end. Her oldest friend would show her compassion by breaking her neck swiftly it seemed, stopping the white hot pain that had started to spread through her body.

She turned slightly towards him, aiding his momentum for the coming action but was surprised when he bent down gently and pulled her up and against his chest. His arms wrapped round her body forcing her to release the weight of the now dead body of someone she had tried to save; the body that she still clung to in hope that the gods would perform a miracle.

For all the suffering she had endured, she wanted one thing only. Disregarding all of her vows and teachings she implored silently promising anything in return, just to have him restored to her.

"Let go." His voice was gentle, as he carefully lifted the lifeless body of his eternal rival out of her arms, placing him on the floor, showing him more kindness than he ever had when he was alive.

She rested against him limply, unable to stop crying, her breath erratic. She could barely register the fear in his tone as his other arm gripped her waist. A rogue thought pierced her…if her friend had held her like this at any other moment, he would have been beaten thoroughly, but her self-proclaimed protector was dead.

She went rigid as the realisation truly hit her.

"Keep quiet!" he pushed her aside and went to Escaflowne's side. She couldn't focus on anything but his unmoving gaze, not understanding why the General took the cursed sword she had dropped and placed it in her saviour's grasp. Then walking back to where he had pulled the sai from his own torso he threw it also by the side of the fallen warrior.

Her knees buckled and her hands took the brunt of the force of her fall. She was pulled upright again by her silver haired friend and marched to the door.

He let out a grunt of annoyance at how unaccommodating she was being as he tried to guide her forward.

"Stop being so difficult." He growled, and she hardly noticed that it lacked any real bite.

A part of her wondered at the tenderness that the General was treating her with, especially after her blatant act of treason. The larger part, the part that refused her to be anything but listless and numb muttered incoherently and did it really matter?

A naïve fool to the end.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

She felt his crimson eyed gaze on her form and ignored it. She knew that her eyes were most likely glassy and dim, but she didn't care. It was hard to care now that she'd lost him.

He had been…well, her everything.

He made her question the dubious beliefs that the old priestess had engrained into her since she was a little girl. He opened her eyes, made her see the chaos and death that she had never noticed from her place at the Emperor's side. He made her see that the routine of her life, her clothing, and her rooms...they were nothing more than her gilded cage to keep her naïve and complacent.

The Emperor was so very, very clever, he had once told her. He had told her again and again that she didn't know her own worth. That she was foolish. She allowed the Emperor to keep her hidden from the people, to keep the one symbol that could mean everything to the people silenced and concealed.

So many times had her indomitable warrior called her foolish.

Her foolish hands had gripped cold steel, and driven that hated sword through the one who killed and slaughtered. She plunged through the one who had so much blood on his hands, yet still thought himself to be pure. Then she had plunged it through the one who held her foolish, _foolish_ heart.

Gods, what she would give to hear that irritating word fall from his lips once more.

A whimper escaped her, unbidden, and the General tightened his grip on her arms.

"Stop it." He commanded harshly. "I know it hurts, but you need to hold it together. We have one chance. Once we get through this you can mourn Escaflowne all you want."

He muttered something that was too low for her to hear, and her vision blurred. She tried to block out the sound of his voice, tried to find that safe place in her thoughts that would cocoon her from the pain.

She could only watch him extend his arm and slide his fingers around the handle of the door. Of her heart's own cruel volition she stared at his dexterity and compared it to that of the warrior who had been so dexterous with her. His calloused hands could grip a sword and beat an entire legion of an opposing army and yet he was ever so gentle with her.

A sob escaped her throat as she recalled the one time he had left a bruise on her wrist during a particularly potent argument. She had been amazed in the few days after, how humble he had been towards her, almost afraid of touching her in case he would hurt her again. And yet he was the only one who truly saw her as a person.

Not a tool, an untouchable object, or a symbol of power. A person.

She felt the cold touch of a forehead rest against the back of her shoulder, causing her own shoulders to lock tensely as it was not the usual warm body she contentedly welcomed. This cold touch only mocked her further.

And then he spoke urgently, in a commanding tone.

"Listen to me. Agree with whatever I say and then you can leave. But you must not let anyone know what happened."

His words had no effect on her. She had lost everything.

Who was she to care about anything else? Despondency crashed her consciousness and she didn't see a point in responding to the General. She was minutely touched by his dedication to her, but it all surmounted to nothing. Death would be a more welcome friend than him.

He turned her limp figure round to face him and glared at her, his grip biting into the now sweat drenched arms of her gi, decorated with crimson stains.

"Please." He begged.

She looked at him and for one single instant she saw warm cinnamon eyes instead of his rust coloured ones, which she realised, were filled with anxiety; his pupils darting to the door and back to her. She nodded a fraction and was whirled back round to face the door.

She supposed that she could do this one final thing for him. Since she was never able to return the feelings that both of them had always pretended had never existed, she could try to find the will to get through this. When she moved next, it was of her own accord, with the General's hand guiding her as it pressed firmly against the small of her back. Raising her arm, it was she who reached for the iron wrought handle.

Her eyes were drawn to the splotches of blood that had stained nearly the entire length of her sleeves scarlet. She turned back to look at him, but for what she wasn't quite sure. Maybe that glimpse of Escaflowne's shadow that she had witnessed earlier, or maybe just a promise that she wasn't as damned as she knew she was.

Whatever it was that she had hoped to see in his eyes it certainly was not the reassurance that she saw in those rusty eyes. Taking a deep breath, she felt suddenly aware as she pushed the door open and stepped over the thresh hold. The scent of blood followed them as they entered the outer hall. She caught sight of a few servants peeking nervously around the corner. She imagined that the General must have given them quite a fiercesome glare with the way they disappeared, but not before curious eyes had fallen upon her blood- splattered robes.

Her heart ached as it reminded her of another time that _he_ had chased away too-curious servants to save her reputation.

That blissful feeling of numbness was threatening to grip her conscious once more. Her steps became heavier. She hardly even heard the heavy footsteps of soldiers as they approached the throne room, undoubtedly drawn by servant gossip. The footsteps quickened and orders were shouted when the scent of blood became apparent.

"Just follow my lead." His voice ghosted over the shell of her ear, and despite her half numb state she couldn't stop the shiver. His hand fell away from her back and he took a step back, making sure to observe the proper distance that decorum demanded.

"General?" A lieutenant rushed forward the moment that he noticed the two and the state of array that their clothing was in. He gave her a brief bow that she hardly noticed, before snapping into a salute to the silver-haired man that now stood slightly in front of the Priestess. The Lieutenant's gray eyes trailed over her stained gi.

"So much blood." He murmured.

"Lieutenant!" The General's voice was harsh and commanding. "See to the mess in the throne room."

The Lieutenant raised a hand and motioned for the two soldiers flanking him to inspect the throne room. She felt those watery grey eyes on her, but she kept her gaze riveted to the floor, studying the individual grains.

"The Emperor?"

"Dead. By Escaflowne's own hand."

She drew in a sharp breath, unable to stop herself at the cruel words. She supposed it was to be expected. After all, the General had said that there was one chance for her to get out of this alive. Tears spilled onto her cheeks in fat drops, but she didn't care. Only the General would know why she cried.

Only he would know _who_ she cried for.

The Lieutenant snarled,

"I knew he couldn't be trusted. What was the Emperor thinking? Giving someone like that a position of such power."

"He was getting old, and his judgement was starting to lapse."

"And he listened to the word of no one. Why is the Priestess so covered in blood?"

"She witnessed the entire thing. By the time I arrived Escaflowne had started to advance on the Priestess."

"You killed him, I trust."

"He died a traitor's death."

A low keening sound of acute pain pierced the hall and it was only when she felt their eyes on her that she realized that the sound was coming from her.

She fell to her knees as her sobs took over.

"I'm so sorry, Holy One." The watery-eyed Lieutenant knelt before her, placing his hand over hers.

"You served His Eminence so faithfully for so many years. To witness such a tragedy…"

"Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant." The General's hands were on her shoulder and he helped her stand up, his voice curt.

"I must see her ladyship to her rooms. This has been, as you said, a terrible ordeal and she needs her rest."

He led her to a hidden panel and slid it open, guiding her through. He was silent as he led her down the passage way to her rooms, lost in his own thoughts as her pain tore her throat ragged and sore.

* * *

_Not long after the Emperor's death, the sacred Priestess took her own life. _

_Although many theorists suggest that many of the cult religions had engrained the belief of faith healing and the Priestess' actions were a result of her faith, many myths and legends ha__ve__ spoken of a forbidden love. Some believe it was her loyalty to an ailing, corrupt Emperor, but it is the stories of an illicit affair between either the Emperor's favored General Albatou__or his proclaimed 'God of Death' Escaflowne that was most popular in the stories of that time._

_Regardless of the true meaning, the people lost a very important symbol of power that day, and it was several decades before a leader was able to arise and fix the fractured remains of a once great empire._

―A History of Gaia, Abridged

Secondary Level

The Rise & Fall of the Zaibach Empire, Chapter 29

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"If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present." Wittgenstein

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Press the shiny button to review. Sa, you know you want to.

Wings & Blades

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	2. Chapter 1

_Blades here.__I apologize greatly for the delay in this update. Feel free to flay me._

Wings also here, don't flay her. There won't be a fic otherwise. ^^

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_As she watched him kneel in front of the Emperor__,__his head bowed low, she couldn't help but pity the Fanelian prince. There was a tension to his shoulder, a quivering in his ki of emotions that made her pity him. She had an idle, stray thought as she smoothed the wrinkles of the purple furisode kimono that the emperor insisted she wear when the court was gathered. She shook her head. Her old mentor would stone her if she ever knew of such a forbidden thought._

_The prince stood slowly, moving with more of the liquid grace of a trained warrior rather then the smooth grace that was inherent in most royalty. _

_It was only to be expected, she supposed, since it was their military prowess that Fanelia had been __most widely__known for._

_To think that Dornkirk could reduce Fanelia to nothing more than this. To think that he would put the heir in such a position that he would agree to submit to Zaibach's rule for the sake of his people. Her emerald eyes softened. If only her emperor would show such compassion__to __his__people__._

_Then the prince raised his head as he regarded the emperor, his eyes only briefly flicking over to where she stood at her lord's side before dismissing her completely._

_For the briefest of moments their eyes met, and she was stunned by the passion she saw burning there. _

_His service to the court that he had accepted to save his people would kill him, she realized. She allowed that forbidden thought to settle into her consciousness. _

_He would be better off dead._

_He gave a curt bow as General Albatou appeared at his side. Before the prince turned to follow her old friend out of the throne room, his eyes rested on her and she was painfully aware of the curiosity that burned there._

_She tried very hard to ignore the strange quivering of excitement at the appraising look._

_His gaze lingered on her form, travelling down the length of her body in a manner that was hardly proper, before he swept past the general and down towards the threshold._

_She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep __herself __from smiling. It appeared __that __it would be some time before the emperor and his Sorcerers would succeed in breaking this man._

XXX

He leant on the railing with a slight sigh, eyes fixed past his vaporous breath as he watched the open air drama unfold.

And to his own considerable surprise he was impressed.

Folken Fanel, the master of all antiquities usually scoffed at the idea of _imagining what the 'past' was like_. There was plenty of evidence to show _exactly_ what it was like, so why was there a need for imagination?

But for some reason this piece of theatre marking the opening of the exhibition actually seemed enjoyable on a historical level.

The costumes were remarkably accurate for the era, unlike the recent TV _dramatisation_ which in his own mind seemed more like a complete warp of what was accepted historical fact. His wife however had loved the low cut dresses and heaving bosoms, despite his exasperated response that women of the court did not dress like prostitutes of the current age. Even his most junior assistant had ridiculed _that_, saying it was a slap in the face for true historical evidence.

And for that matter, where was she?

His wife had gone shopping, wanting to _enjoy_ the town whilst she was here and _stay out of the dismal frost_. The twins were on either side of him, eyeing up all the male actors, as usual. Apparently a man who was shirtless in the bitter cold was an _act of bravery_ to them, therefore making him extremely attractive. And the males on his team were feeling unwell from the local cuisine and in their rooms, or as Hitomi put it _suffering from major hangovers and too embarrassed to say anything._

That said, where had she got to?

Hitomi had been the one to drag them all here – _him_ – here saying it would be interesting to see a different cultural take on the famous legendary tale. She had even laughed at the twins' drooling as the actors came out onto the steps. But at some point she had left their group and slipped away from the crowds. She _was_ small he pondered, would it be possible for her to be trampled?

He shook his head, sighing as he recognized her.

Hitomi Kanzaki may have been the smallest member of their team, but she was by far the least vulnerable. He could recall only weeks ago in Daedalus, within a mass grave site, the boys yelling in fright at a scorpion that fell out of a set of human ribs, which Hitomi then picked up, by the tail, flinging it up and out of the trench. She was no pushover by any means.

So trampling was out.

But what did that leave?

He wasn't left with his thoughts for long as he heard a loud voice over the crowd, "Folken!" Followed by a blur of _pink_ hair?

Swiftly followed by a young female throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around him; the force making him sway on the spot. He smiled gently and ruffled her now dyed hair and asked as she lifted her head up.

"Pink, Merle? Pink?" She grinned and shrugged,

"I got bored of blue and this looks so much better." She poked him viciously, and accused,

"You haven't been home in months and the first thing you say to me when I see you is about my hair?"

He laughed generously and hugged her properly this time, with less shock in his system. "It's good to see you too little sister." She grinned, nodding.

"Totally! Guess who else is here?" she said even more excited, turning back to the crowd she had appeared from. Folken noticed that the people nearest to them were staring. And with his blue tinged hair and Merle's pink, he could understand why.

His eyes scanned the crowd for whomever Merle had come with and saw with a smirk a disgruntled man with messy raven hair and narrowed brown eyes. He saw Merle's hand wave in front of his face as she bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to attract his little brother's attention. The messy raven hair turned a few times, whipped in several directions by the winds before his full face turned towards them and saw his siblings watching him.

He gestured back and without any haste made his way fluidly through the crowd with unrestrained ease, though his face showed his annoyance.

But Van was always easily riled by anything, he thought amusedly.

That was why _he_ was the archaeologist and Van was now the head of the family corporation. Van got angry and made demands, getting things amended, Folken wanted to find out the why, how, and where. This, of course was not material for the CEO of a global business, but his parents hadn't minded, which had been a good thing for both brothers or at least in his eyes.

"Hey," was the sole word from his brother's mouth.

Merle reached over to her more stoic brother and clung to his arm, exclaiming happily. "See! I told you he'd be here! Aren't I amazing?"

The corners of the dark haired Fanel family member's mouth twitched upwards and he nodded, replying.

"Yes Merle, you're amazing," in his most commonly sardonic tone.

He nodded to Folken "We thought you'd be here for the opening ceremony so we…"

"Decided to surprise you and see the prodigal member of our family!" Merle chipped in, still bouncing on the balls of her feet, even though it was bitingly cold.

Folken smiled at the love radiating from his youngest sibling. He was grateful to her that she didn't feel resentment towards him for running off with his wife all those years ago. He didn't know what he could say for his brother's feelings, and he wasn't sure whether it was entirely a good thing.

"About time!" Came another loud, exasperated voice over the crowd as a man with startling long blond hair appeared in front of them followed by another blonde, this time female.

"Allen," Van acknowledged, his gaze transferred from his brother to the actors on the steps, to Folken's surprise.

"Oh isn't it romantic." The female sighed forlornly, looking at the action on the steps before she turned to Folken and smiled,

"Folken! It's lovely to see you again." She bowed slightly to him, and he returned the gestured,

"The same with you Millerna," he swivelled slightly to the taller blonde, "Allen." He inclined his head to Allen, who nodded in turn.

"Where's your lovely wife?" Allen asked genially, then frowning as he heard Van snort in amusement as Folken smiled tiredly and murmured.

"She prefers the indoor heating of shopping centres to this apparently."

"Oh!" Merle complained, turning briefly from watching the performance. "I wanted to see Sora!"

"I do love this story!" Millerna murmured, clasping her hands together excitedly, as the shirtless male gestured with his fake sword and the female on stage simpered in return.

"Ugh, what is it with girls and men with swords?" came another female voice. The group turned to see the newcomer. The twins giggled at the possible innuendo.

Folken had only just turned to back to the performance out on the steps of the museum and blinked at the almost magical reappearance of his junior assistant, who grinned back at him.

"Where did you go?" he demanded, aware that his family were staring at the scoffing figure. Hitomi smiled and thrust out a steaming paper bag,

"Pork Buns!" she answered chirpily, seemingly absorbed by the food, but noticing his annoyance she continued. "I could smell them all the way from over _here_, and the performance was getting a bit too lovey-dovey for my taste so I went for some. Want one?" she offered, and sighed as he shook his head, turning back to the performance.

He watched as she leant on the railing and offered some of the food to the twins who eagerly moved to either side of her, accepted the food, and whispered critiques of the actor's six-pack to Hitomi's apparent amusement. But he could see in her stance she seemed uneasy somehow, so he stepped forward and ruffled the green woolly hat on her head.

"Next time you disappear, tell someone first." He muttered. "You could get lost here." He was startled by the broad smile that appeared on her face as she turned round.

Only then did he notice that her eyes were red—from the cold? He wasn't the only one to be surprised by the gesture as he heard someone else inhale rapidly.

He saw from the corner of his eye that Allen's gaze seemed locked onto his assistant's smile. Hitomi turned back round as the male actor spoke aloud.

"I will protect you Lady Seeress. Even unto death."

Once again Hitomi stiffened at the lines smoothly delivered by the actor as he gazed heatedly at his female counterpart.

"Don't like the romance 'Tomi?" Naria asked the girl in between her and her twin, slinging an arm round her, pouting teasingly. Hitomi rolled her eyes, but was unable to defend herself as Eryia cut across.

"Well, she's never properly experienced it, so she's bound to scoff."

Hitomi sighed. "That not why I'm scoffing."

"Oh?"

"Then why?" The twins asked in conjunction.

Even Folken knew to be wary when Naria and Eryia pulled their double act, but Hitomi seemed distracted somehow.

"I just don't think Escaflowne, the legendary warrior would be such a—flirt." She sighed as both females burst into giggles.

"Well I wouldn't mind if Mr. Shirtless down there cranked up the charisma with me any day." Naria said silkily, her eyes almost burning into the male actor's defined back.

"And anyway, is there any historical proof that Escaflowne wasn't a skirt-chaser? Hmm?" Eryia tagged from the other side.

The whole group, seemingly drawn to the three girls' conversation, paused. Folken saw that even his brother had his eyes trained on his assistant's woolly hat and the tendrils of hair that escaped it. They waited for the seemingly helpless response, but caught a cool, leisurely retort.

"That's easy." Hitomi answered, her eyes now glued to the theatre piece, acting as if she had properly answered the question. "He had no children." She placed her cards on the table and tilted her head in what Folken recognised as a sign of triumph for her.

Naria and Eriya tilted their heads in unison as they regarded Hitomi. The younger woman ignored the looks, keeping her attention riveted on the play.

On stage, a woman with glaringly fake blond hair latched onto the arm of the shirtless Escaflowne, pressing her ample bosom against the man's arm. Folken could still see the tension in the way Hitomi tried to lean over the railing in a show of nonchalance. There was a crinkle as Hitomi tightened her grip on the bag of pork buns.

He shook his head slightly, not entirely sure what to make of his junior's assistant strange behavior.

Of course, it wasn't as if anyone could ever accuse her of being normal. She didn't share the twins' obsession with the eye candy of the opposite sex, and there had always been—especially in the past couple of years—something a little _off _about her behavior.

Out of all of his students, Hitomi had probably done the most extensive research on the history of Zaibach in general, and the Era of Science in particular. The Era of Science...words most commonly associated with Emperor Dornkirk's reign of suppression. For all that he had utterly destroyed so many nations, the emperor had pioneered some of the most innovative technological advances at the time.

Within the past few months his youngest assistant had been devoting a staggering amount of hours to whatever projects that he had about Zaibach, and the ones that centred around separating fact from fiction with the legend of Escaflowne seemed to be particularly fascinating to her.

His own pondering towards his assistant was cut short as Naria threw back her head and laughed so loudly the actors on the steps turned to the loud noise.

The blatantly false wig on the actress swung perilously towards the ground as every neck in the area involuntarily twisted towards the musical sound. Folken noticed that unlike the males in the crowd and apparently the one on stage focusing on Naria, Hitomi had raised an eyebrow and was munching calmly on a steaming bun.

The actors and crowd quickly returned to the theatre piece, despite _Escaflowne's_ gaze swivelling towards the silver haired twin and smirking at her occasionally over the head of the actress he was meant to be seducing.

"Well?" Eryia asked, aware that her twin hadn't just laughed to create attention. Naria grinned back at her.

Folken watched as the elder twin then leaned in close to Hitomi, an arm slung across the shorter girl's shoulder as she surreptitiously snuck a bun from the half open paper bag. He didn't have to strain to hear her comment,

"So the God of War didn't have a brood of children bearing his name? How do we know he wasn't with every girl around and left them reminders? They _wouldn't_ be official."

"Yeah, if he was anything like the hottie down there…," Eryia gestured with her hand, swiping the half eaten bun from her twin, "I'd be surprised Escaflowne didn't have his own harem."

"Ne, it was a belief in those days to have relations with a woman before a battle, for luck and possibly an heir in case of problems in battle…"

"Think about all those battles…"

"And all that…" Naria was stopped by Folken coughing loudly.

She turned to her boss, a question in her now docile expression. Folken paid her no attention as his eyes were fixed on the paper bag of steaming cuisine. Or rather the fingers wrapped round them, turning blue from something other than the temperature he presumed.

Fingers, that were curled so tightly around the paper that they seemed to be pressing into the pork buns that remained untouched. Hitomi's form was deceptively relaxed but her expression was carefully blank. She seemed to be watching the play but something about her eyes seemed...distant. As if she wasn't quite registering the way the buxom actress was nearly grinding against the half naked actor.

Folken stopped his study of his assistant whom, even though he hated favoritism, he had to admit was one of the most valuable assets to his team, despite being the youngest member. The cherry of the team, as the twins liked to say.

The blue-haired professor turned his attention back to the stage. Hitomi had been right in saying that it would be an experience. While Sora had dragged him to countless productions of the tragic legend, this was probably the most..._carnal _production that he had ever seen. From the way stage was set up, to the costumes and even the way the play was scripted it spoke of an accuracy that the current Zaibach government tried to dismiss.

Still it seemed as if this particular scene was more decadent then evidence suggested, and it was rather surprising, considering it was a short walk across the bridge until one would reach the border checkpoints to Zaibach.

Folken's gaze turned to the western front and the imposing valleys that signalled the natural and political boundary between the rest of Gaea and Zaibach. 1,000 years on from the tyrannical reign of Emperor Dornkirk and Zaibach still held a sense of separation from the rest of Gaea.

For Folken Fanel, Professor of Archaeology – specified field Zaibach in the Era of Science; the country held a mysterious quality to him. As if there were secrets to still be found surrounding the Emperor. Even though there were written records abound, Folken's professional mind told him archaeological evidence was equally or more important.

For him, the tomb of Emperor Dornkirk was equivalent to the Holy Grail of Asgard or more important.

But not in the sense it was for other scholars. His Basram counterparts irked him tremendously in that they would probably loot the tomb like their bandit ancestors or see the money signs rolling and nothing else. He wanted to discover the tomb, to feel how it felt all those years ago, to feel the awe that an entire continent once held for just one man.

And the tiny voice that sounded oddly like his most junior assistant's told him how close he was to the border. How easy it would be to cross it. And then he could dig wherever he pleased.

His imaginary discovery of the Tomb complete with wearing a western, leather hat and Sora in khaki hotpants was cut short by a loud cry from another of his female assistants. However it wasn't one of the twins kicking up a fuss.

And surprisingly the crowd paid no attention to the high pitched cry as his split eyed gazed revealed the _couple_ on stage were pushing the boundaries of what was considered publically acceptable.

He watched as Hitomi whirled round, hissing.

"What do you think…"

Folken saw Hitomi stop mid-rant at whomever had attempted to take a pork bun as the bag was clasped tightly behind her back. He raised an eyebrow at her reaction as another of his friends appeared.

Dilandau wasn't that good looking was he? His surprise rose as Hitomi dropped her _precious_ and well-guarded food to jump at the silver haired man.

"Dilly!"

Folken could only raise an eyebrow as Hitomi nearly dropped her precious bag of food in order to launch herself at the silver-haired man that had appeared behind her. He grimaced. Dilandau Albatou had probably one of the more brilliant minds that he had ever had the pleasure of working with, though that pleasure seemed oddly masochistic at times.

At age 23, the young Asturian had already obtained a Masters in a dual major of history and archaeology.

While it was rare to achieve a degree in the amount of time it took most students to achieve a bachelor's it wasn't impossible. By the time he was 25, the youngest son of a family that was famous for its ruthless politicians, had achieved a doctorate in the same field with a specialization in battle reconstruction and ancient weaponry. He now worked as an associate professor, and assisted Folken with his own classes and projects while juggling the demanding projects from Gaea's Historical Society.

If he remembered correctly, Dilandau was currently _supposed_ to be working on the construction of an exhibit on the Massacre of the Fortuna Temple that was to take place at the border between Asturia and Fried next month. Yet, here he was tagging along for, as the young Albatou termed it, a "dig in the sandbox".

Hitomi's face brightened considerably as Dilandau quite literally lifted her off of her feet and into what could only be described as a bear hug.

He hadn't been aware that the two were acquainted.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the archaeologist watched his brother step forward, something in his dark expression slightly strangled. If Folken didn't know better he would almost have hazarded a guess that Van was…jealous?

"Ow!"

He turned his head just in time to see Hitomi cuff the man's head as she jumped back down to her feet.

"What the hell was that for Hitomi?"

"Don't man handle me like that."

"Aw, Hitomi, don't be like that! I haven't seen you in _forever_. "

Van stepped to Folken's side, raking a hand through his unruly locks as he did so, trying to appear nonchalant.

"_Dilandau!_"

"Dilandau?"

Folken faced Hitomi originally to hear her shriek, then felt his neck twinge painfully as he whipped round to hear a male voice the other side of him echo. He groaned as his neck turned back again as Hitomi growled.

"You made me drop my buns!"

The twins were among the people that snorted in amusement at that comment.

He strained to see in the other direction as his brother seemed to mimic his toddler habit of standing behind him, peeking out from one side to covertly watch what was going on in front of his brother.

At the other end of his line of sight he saw Dilandau smirk and comment. "Really? They look perfect from where I'm standing."

Folken cringed at the blatant remark and waited for the sound of Hitomi's hand to reach his ears.

Once again, the trend of surprises continued as Hitomi's anger extended only to a hand gesture and turning back to the theatrical piece on the sweeping steps of the museum. He noticed Dilandau smirk at Hitomi's gesture before stepping forward slightly to ruffle her hat, causing a few more stray wisps of hair to fall from under her hat. She gestured negligently at him, pork buns forgotten as her eyes focused or seemed to on the actors who were, well…

"Ooh! Free porn!" Came the voice of Dilandau, with a strangely childlike gleefulness to it. Van snorted at the comment and Folken watched as Dilandau turned to the source of the noise and his eyes widened.

The look in the silver-haired professor's eyes were down right evil, and Folken was sincerely beginning to regret that he had agreed to letting the addition to the group when the head of the department had approached him with the request. If he had known who it was he never would have agreed.

Silently, his rust colored eyes fairly gleaming with evil intent, Dilandau left Hitomi's side and walked over towards Folken's younger brother. Merle was watching the silver haired man warily but it seemed that whatever it was she had gleaned from the man's intent she decided that it didn't pose too much of a threat and flounced over to join Hitomi's side. He felt another wave of trepidation at the two women who were so close in age, standing side by side. His little sister cocked her head to her side and studied Hitomi with her usual unnerving stare.

Strangely enough Hitomi, who seemed to be taking note of everything around her lately, took no notice of it. Then her lips quirked up into something that could almost be considered a smirk, and he could only wonder at it.

This was only moments before Van let out a scream that sounded very much like a strangled cat.

The archaeologist could only stare, his eyes wide, as he took in the scene that was causing quite a few of the surrounding tourists to stop and gawk at it.

Dilandau was currently draping his entire form over Van's upper body, with his head nuzzling Van's cheek in a mocking display of affection. Folken's younger brother was currently trying to extract himself from said hold while trying to touch the Albatou as little as possible.

Needless to say he wasn't succeeding very much.

Letting out an irritated sigh he brought his fingers up to his temples, trying to bring some sort of ease to the headache that he could already feel building.

_I knew this wasn't a good idea._

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_**Review Responses:**

Inda - thanks! _Muhahaha._ _Another victim._

thepinkmartini - thank you! Yeah the confusion was intentional. here's your development. _Ku, ku, ku._

Lil' Dinky - Thanks! We're glad you did. Sorry for the wait! _Arigatou_ _gozaimasu._

mysisterisasquijum - Thanks. _Glad you enjoyed._ Hope you liked our work this chapter ^^

InLuvWidVan - lol, Escaflowne's your favourite character? _Now why did you have to go and tell us that. You know telling me who your favorite is just brings out the worse in me. You got lucky. Wings will limit the amount of torture that I can inflict on him. Le sigh._

Tanwen Whitefire - psychic are we? Thanks for patiently waiting. _Ku, ku, ku. Excellent. Thanks for being so patient. ^^_

effervesernce—_I'm glad you enjoyed it so much. Most of the plot is courtesy of Wing's warped mind. ^^ Shh! Don't tell her I said that!_ **T**hanks! Yes we wanted to try something different. And Escaflowne's death is a secret ^.~

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**Hey** **thanks for reading. reviewers get naughty pics of dilandau?**

_Me thinks me be channeling Dilandau a tad too much._ I think we need to keep you away from Anime Villains Anonymous meetings, you're getting too many bad habits! _Nooo!!!_

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"Do not display objects of desire, so that the people's hearts shall not be disturbed." – Daodejing, _Laozi_

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__Reviews are much appreciated._


	3. The Girl & The Towel

_Blades: No, we haven't abandoned this story. I just have a tendency to procrastinate and we are both working on so many writing projects at the moment that sometimes stuff falls behind. Sorry for the delay. The next chapter is under way._

_Wings: Yeah and we live in two separate continents. Enjoy! ^^_

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**The Cassandra Syndrome  
Chapter Two**

**The Girl and the Towel**

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_The first time they kissed it was by accident. Maybe it would have more accurate to call the act an accident. _

_It never should have happened, that was something that Hitomi believed very strongly. Maybe it was that kiss that had been the start of everything._

_In the evenings it was her habit to linger in the Emperor's private garden after playing chess with Dilandau. Even on the nights when the young general was too occupied with the war to spare the time the young priestess would dismiss her maids and revel in the quiet sounds that were so rare in a city that was starting to carve a future out of steel and blood. She was so accustomed to the solitude of the gardens that she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the telltale sound of a stick being crushed under a heeled boot._

_Hitomi was more then a little irritated with herself for whirling around with a gasp. She had seen too many of the women who clamoured for Dilandau__'s__ attention act in the same manner and the last thing she wanted to do was act in a manner similar to theirs. Besides, it was difficult to spin around in a kimono._

_The Fanelian Prince, Escaflowne, as the Emperor had ordained that the man would be addressed, was standing at the edge of the garden, just underneath drooping branches of a willow.__A cool breeze kicked his cloak upwards, and it was only then that the scent of blood reached her. Unable to stop herself Hitomi wrinkled her nose in disgust at __the __coppery scent._

"_Does it offend you?" _

_The cadence of his voice made her stop and look at him all the more closely. There was an intensity in his cinnamon gaze that she had never received before and she couldn't stop herself from blushing. _

"_Do you find the scent of blood offensive?"_

_There it was again, that mocking tone that she couldn't quite place. Quite a few retorts were on the tip of her tongue—_it's your manner that offends me ,Fanelia—_but she opted to keep her silence and try to reinforce the calm, quiet mask that was the only way she could retain her sanity._

_Something hard was smouldering in those eyes of his and Hitomi had a distinct impression that he wouldn't let her leave without an answer. The silence that spread between them, punctuated only by his slow steps as he made his way to the cherry tree that she stood under, made her skin itch._

"_It isn't that," She said finally. Briefly she wondered if he was aware of her discomfort and was acting this way on purpose. "It is __just__ not something I am used to." _

_It was a lie, and she knew from the moment the words left her lips that it was a mistake. Something shifted in the man's expression, and Hitomi was quite sure that she didn't like the tension churn__ing__ in the pit of her stomach. Was he aware of all of the times that she was summoned by Dilandau to give Death's Blessing to her friend__'s__ latest victim?_

_Did he know that there wasn't a scent that she detested quite as much as she did the scent of blood?_

Liar.

_She could practically hear the word that went unsaid. His mouth quirked up as if he found something particularly amusing. Her gaze was drawn to that mouth, and her own went dry. Nervous, she played with __the__ golden embroidery over the black silk of the kimono sleeve that bared her pale wrist._

"_Is the priestess so innocent?" Then he moved until he was a handspan away from __her worried form__._

_Hitomi expected the blood stench to be nearly overpowering and was a little surprised when it wasn't. She hardly had time to register that surprise because quite suddenly a strong arm had wrapped around her waist and __ruptured__ the distance__ between them__. _

_She didn't even have time to utter a sound before she was pulled flush against his body. She could only stare dumbly at the bloodstained leather that covered his chest. Before she could even register the sense of revulsion that filled her when she realized that blood clung to nearly every portion of the hardy material a hand that was encased in a leather that was surprisingly supple was touching her chin and tilting her head up.__ The priestess was hard pressed to suppress a moan at the way her skin tingled pleasantly from where he was touching her. _

_She raised her eyes to look into his cinnamon hued one__s__. There was that same fire there. The one she couldn't identify._

"_Are you innocent?"_

_Before she could even jerk back Escaflowne was lowering his head and his lips were crushing hers. _

_If it had been possible she would have gasped at the sensation of the hand that played at the small of her back, just__ slipping__ underneath her obi. She should be pushing him away, she knew that—Goddess, if the old priestess saw her __at __this__ very pinnacle of time__—but the tingling on her lips from __him __as he pressed harder against her and pulled her more securely against him was—_

_He nipped her lower lip and all coherent thought ceased._

_For one mind numbing moment she didn't notice anything. She tried to kiss him back tentatively—_this is wrong, wrong, wrong—_and was nearly mortified at how inexperienced she must have seemed. She clutched at the bloodstained folds of leather, not noticing the way the dried liquid fell onto her fingers in flakes, and was pressing herself against him. His kisses were coaxing, encouraging her to give all that she was and even though Hitomi didn't know why she should__,__ she couldn't help relenting._

_She was panting when he finally released her from the kiss, and she wasn't quite able to contain a moan when he brushed her __hair__ forward as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin underneath her throat. She arched her neck back, unconsciously, to give his better access and whimpered when he found her pulse point at the hollow of her throat and nipped and sucked at the now hyper-sensitized flesh._

_It wasn't until his hand brushed the heavily __detailed __silk just over her breasts that she was able to push away, indignation flushing her skin crimson, and look up at him._

_Despite the __new and staggering __need that coursed through her body the look she saw there made her blood freeze. _

_She had seen cruelty in her service to the Emperor, _by the Goddess did she know cruelty_, but there was an edge to the mocking smirk that stole her breath. For a moment she forgot to breath__e__. There was something in that smirk that felt as if someone had taken the sacrificial dagger that she used for ceremonies and driven it straight __through__ her heart. She could only stop and stare at his emotionless eyes as they perused her form and Hitomi had to bite her cheek to prevent her lip from trembling._

_How could he make her feel so dirty?_

_The look he levelled her with when he finally looked her in the eye again couldn't be considered hatred, but it was the closest that she had ever come to seeing it. As ashamed as she felt, she couldn't tear her gaze away from his mouth when he spoke._

"_Nothing more than a woman after all." His voice was soft. Hateful._

_Tears were starting to gather at the corner of her eyes now and she raised shaking fingers to her lip__s__. Try as she might Hitomi couldn't find the words to reprimand him for daring to—daring to... Her thoughts trailed off and her green eyes, luminous with the tears that threatened to fall, could only stare._

_He moved past her, the coarse material of his blood stained cloak harsh against her bare wrists. Hitomi froze, breathing in sharply, when he stopped next to her. He leaned close so that his breath puffed softly against her earlobe and his chin rested on her shoulder. _

"_Never," His voice was no longer soft and was thick with some sort of emotion that she didn't quite understand, "wear _that_ in my presence. Never again."_

_She shuddered when he stepped away from her and suddenly felt very cold._

XXX

Van looked up at the _'__Otel_ they had come across which according to Dilandau was the best in the town. Not that the town seemed any better, with few people out on the silent streets and an overwhelming military presence on almost every corner. He silently wondered whether it was strange to feel an oncoming ripple of dread as they had crossed the border into Zaibach, both geographically and militarily imposing.

As Head of the family company he had travelled broadly and his intuition told him that any establishment missing letters from the outside sign were often absent of other things on the inside. But Dilandau had insisted it was a reputable place and found them rooms efficiently and quickly. Still, something jarred with Van on the coach ride into the Republic of Zaibach. It also felt odd how such a notoriously closed off country had let them in without any visas or prior notice.

It was easy to brush it off with the notion that Dilandau was a well connected man, his family deeply mazed in Gaean politics. However Van was not stupid or ignorant by any means, simply connections didn't get you immediate entry into a country with tighter immigration control than a bank vault.

Sighing, he picked up his bag along with his sister's and followed Dilandau who strolled into the 'Otel as if he was walking into a Palace. As a group he noticed that Allen, Millerna, and Merle seemed passively curious about why they had entered a country where Armed Policemen were more common than beggars, not that he had seen any of the latter. Folken, Sora and his twin assistants were talking, huddled together, his brother gesturing with a delighted expression on his face.

But it was the girl leaning against a window and looking out at the grim view that caught his full attention. There had been something in Hitomi's stance that screamed at him she was uncomfortable. Even though her posture was relaxed, he noticed her clenched hands, and the way her lips pursed tightly. And a part of him felt an urge to stride over to her and pull her against him.

She was clearly uncomfortable from the way her eyes shifted back and forth across the room. Van felt as if someone had shot him when her swift sweeping gaze met his. Any idea of going over to talk to her disappeared as she stared at him ever so intensely for a second then tore her gaze away, seemingly wary of him. Almost frightened. It didn't help his already unnerved state at their ominous location.

He wondered cautiously whether he should go and talk to the extremely quiet young woman separate from the rest of their group. But what in the name of Escaflowne would he say? It struck him that he hadn't heard her actually speak since Dilandau had somehow managed the miracle of getting them into Zaibach without prearranged agreement, visas or anything else.

Was that worrying Hitomi? If so surely she would have said something to Folken, he mused. Turning round to look at his brother again he understood why she wouldn't – Folken was still engaged in a highly animated conversation with the twins, his wife and now Dilandau, all with eager expressions on their faces. His brother's gestures increasing, stopping inches of breaking Dilandau's nose.

Van felt it strange that no one else had noticed the girl standing apart from them all and not engaging in any conversation. Any indecision on going to talk to the rather pretty woman left him when Dilandau waltzed over and handed him a door key attached to a large block of wood with the number carved in on it. The quaintness of the key was lost on him as his ass suddenly stung, Dilandau winking as he walked away. Uncaring as to who saw it, Van marched over to the stairs, ignoring his sister-in-law's giggled comment.

"That'll leave a bruise and you know it."

His only focus was to get to his room and sleep through the night. Maybe shower first, and wash in bleach to get rid of the over-abused-by-Dilandau feeling.

XXX

Hitomi watched the little interaction with her professor's younger brother and her childhood friend in silence. Her lips quirked up into an amused smile, even though she hardly found the situation amusing. She had known that going to Zaibach would be a bad idea, but she had been unable to come up with a proper excuse to dissuade Folken. Besides, there was a part of her that couldn't quite deny she wanted to know if she would find anything in those ruins.

She hadn't expected the pain.

_Van_. Her mouth formed the word, and she grimaced at the sheer precision in the name. Just looking at him was difficult. It was a mercy that while he had definitely noticed her—and probably found her odd—that he had not approached or tried to talk to her. Though a sadistic part of her wished he would come up to her, she would probably have a panic attack if he did.

It wasn't like she hadn't known what Folken's brother would look like. There were times when she practically lived in the professor's office, so there had been more than a couple pictures of both Van and Merle. She had known what he had looked like, yet for some reason it had never even occurred to her that it might be painful to see him. The desire to pull him close had and run her fingers through his thick raven locks with his head resting on her shoulder had been overwhelming enough to bring tears to her eyes. More than once she had thought about leading him to some secluded corner and telling him, showing him, who she was and what he was and what they had once meant to each other.

After all there were ways to show him what she had seen that night in the library when she had stayed late to do some extra research, but Hitomi wasn't sure if she could stand the hate and look of betrayal that was sure to be there when he _knew._ That was if he believed her and didn't think she was crazy or abusing some sort of glue. So all she could do was swallow thickly, curse Dilandau and his matchmaking tendencies, and pretend that she didn't know him. Pretend that she hadn't known him in another life.

XXX

His curiosity over the honey haired woman, anger with Dilandau's reoffending behaviour and the sudden feeling he was at the beginning of a horror film all fell when he threw his bag on the bed and rolled his tensed shoulders. The room was sparse but it still had a TV and he enjoyed watching Fanelian dramas that were either dubbed or subtitled. Yawning broadly he scanned the room for the ensuite bathroom and narrowed his eyes in surprise as the door was next to the TV.

If he hadn't assumed it was the bathroom, he would have thought it to be a door to an adjoining room. But any confusion or lingering curiosity at the strange layout passed over him at the promise of a shower. Van didn't want to but he knew eventually he would have to check whether the silver haired bastard's gesture had left a mark on his skin. Of all places! Only more embarrassing would be to ask to borrow cream from his sister or worse the demon his brother had married.

He had no complaint towards Sora most of the time. But her indulgent glee at Dilandau's harassment made him wish that his brother had proved him right by only being attracted to humans that were long dead and missing organs, not to mention their skin and muscles. Pity really.

Biting back another yawn he pulled his jumper and t-shirt over his head, throwing them to the bed before kicking off his shoes by the foot of the bed. It was truly testament to how deranged Dilandau could be that he padded barefoot across the thin carpet to the door and locked it, checking twice that anyone, female or perverted male could get in. A quick third check of the lock was made before he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. Maybe his instincts were slightly off as the room was still quite warm despite the biting cold outside, and he wasn't running to the bathroom to jump into a hot shower.

In hindsight, he should have heard the low gentle humming that wasn't mechanical coming from behind the door he opened. Walking into the bathroom it stupidly took a good few seconds for him to realize that despite all his checks of the door he wasn't alone in the bathroom. Only then did he see another ajar door on the far side of the room that also led to the apparently _shared_ bathroom.

Hitomi looked up for a moment, her brow raised in inquiry as she finished wrapping the towel around her slim form. Van could feel his face turning at least ten shades of scarlet, and cursing himself again for letting Dilandau handle the hotel arrangements.

Her emerald eyes travelled down the course of his body, and it was only through sheer will that he was able to stop himself from flinching back. Her gaze lingered on the pale scar just above his belly button, before travelling downwards. He could just see the amusement in her eyes when she finally raised her eyes back to his.

Once again Van cursed his little sister to the seventh level of hell for arranging his suitcase.

Her lips curved into the faintest of smirks, before she sashayed to her room in a move that he knew was deliberate.

Van couldn't move.

"Folken-SENSEI!" Hitomi's lilting voice caused a cold dread to curl in Van's gut as he waited for her to continue. "Your brother's a perve."

If he cocked his head, Van was almost sure he could hear a faint snickering in the next room over that he knew a certain silver-haired gossip queen had vacated.

Shaking his head, he closed both doors before stepping out of his horrifyingly kitten-imprinted boxers. He had just turned the knobs and a spray of sputtering water was pouring out of the shower head when there was a light tap on the door leading to Hitomi's room.

She opened the door before he had a chance to respond.

He had to give her credit where it was due, never once did her gaze leave his face.

"Be careful with the hot water knob. If you turn it too far it goes cold. Enjoy your shower."

Van stifled the urge to scream (because, after all, it wasn't a very manly thing to do and the _last_ thing that he wanted to do was to attract more attention) and pushed back the curtain to fumble with the knobs. He glared venomously at the closed door. He just _knew_ that it hadn't been an accident that he and Hitomi happened to be assigned the _only_ two rooms that shared a bathroom.

It was enough that he suffered sexual harassment from the Albatou wasn't it? He blamed it on the misogynistic sexism of the government. Was it really so unusual for a male to file a complaint against another male?

Of course that train of thought turned his thoughts to dark alleys and things he really didn't want to think of. He shuddered as he pondered just exactly how much worse it would have been if _Dilandau_ had been the one to take the conjoining room.

Taking care to remember Hitomi's warning about turning the knob too far he waited until steam started to rise before stepping into the shower. Just as he poured the cool gel of his shampoo into his hand he heard a rather piercing loud, feminine voice coming from the direction of the room he now knew also adjoined the bathroom along with his own. This was quickly followed by a high pitched giggle. He groaned. If that was the twins then the fact that he had unintentionally walked in on Hitomi—which, of course, the whole unintentional factor of the entire incident would be completely forgotten—would be known by the entire group within the next five minutes.

Hell, he didn't doubt that complete strangers who didn't even know who he was would know tomorrow that Van Fanel had walked in on Hitomi Kanzaki wearing just a towel, a very _small_ towel.

At that moment he wasn't entirely sure he would have completely regretted Dilandau or even _Allen_ being in the next room.

Even the perverted self proclaimed Gossip Queen couldn't spread rumors as fast as the twins.

Groaning he knew that any amount of hot water would do nothing for his temperament or the feeling of being dirty twice over. He knew that being a voyeur was terrible, but for some reason his mind kept going over the very clear image of the curve of her bare, creamy shoulder. Not to mention the droplets of water falling from her short, lopsided ponytail that slid down her shoulder and beyond. Maybe a cold shower would serve him better.

XXX

Despite all the rumours surrounding the Zaibach sense of hospitality, Van felt as though he had slept well in his barely furnished hotel room with an inflexible mattress. But he liked a firm mattress and once his head had fallen on the rough pillow he had slept soundly despite the odd images of a girl with long hair and blood, so much blood. Not to mention the recollections of the girl in a towel he had come across the night before.

He found himself surprised by how easily he had gone along with his brother and Dilandau's mad cap scheme to visit the reason for the exhibition on the Chezarian border with Zaibach. He wasn't all that surprised by how easily they had crossed the border; after all Dilandau's family were powerful people in Asturia. Still, for some reason he kept thinking back to the youngest assistant of his brother's.

Hitomi. She had appeared surprised by the sudden decision to go into the Republic of Zaibach and somewhat unwilling. At least that's how he interpreted the grimace that slid across her face and her clenched fists. He really needed to stop thinking of the amount of skin that minute towel had allowed him to see. He only hoped for Escaflowne's sake his eyes wouldn't stray anywhere inappropriate when she came down for breakfast. Not that Allen needed any excuse to check out the three females from Folken's group of archaeologists. Or any woman ever.

Yawning, he wondered downstairs and over to the buffet, picked up a variety of sweet dumplings before heading to an empty table and sitting down. Van began to eat in peaceful silence, where his thoughts wandered back to his dreams and the scent of the girl's hair, of incense which calmed him as she silently cleaned the blood from his hands; relaxing as he rested his forehead on her bare shoulder and her cheek brushing his. She had a pleasing voice, humming a song he knew he had heard before somewhere.

"Good morning my beloved." Van blinked as a plate towering with food was set down next to his and a pair of arms wound round his neck, silvery hair nestled in the crook of his shoulder. At another moment he would have reacted instantly, and with as much force as possible. But he was still tired, so he settled with replying devoid of emotion. "Get off me now Dilandau." To his surprise, Dilandau actually respected his request and moved away, settling in his own chair, slumping slightly towards the table.

He bit back a smile of triumph and then tensed in annoyance as the honeyed, overly dramatic voice came, dripping in distress. "You don't love me anymore."

"No Dilandau, I don't. Especially when you're pissing me off at an ungodly hour."

"Did I do something to upset you?" Came the even more honeyed tones, and Van glared at the puppy eyes his soon to be disowned friend bestowed him with.

Yawning again, he turned back to his food and found his knife and fork missing. Turning back to his ever increasingly evil friend he glared once more at Dilandau and demanded, "Give me my cutlery. Now."

The pout from his dining companion only served to increase his anger towards him as Dilandau waved his fork in front of him. "Nuh uh! I've made you angry so I'll make it up to you!"

Van dreaded the word before it even left his mouth, "How?" He flinched as the arm slid across his shoulders and Dilandau loomed closer, his mouth quirking up in an evil sort of way and started stroking Van's cheek. "I'll feed you! Now open wide!"

At that moment Van couldn't decide whether to hate Dilandau, the fork, or the pork dumpling more as they all invaded his personal space.

"Come on honey, don't be shy! Open wide!" The words sounded disgustingly like a come on as the dumpling in _his_, dammit _hi,s_ fork pressed against his mouth. He closed his eyes in irritation, trying his best not to grab Dilandau's neck and squeeze.

As he opened his eyes, after counting to ten but still feeling irate his face drained of colour despite his tan as the girl he had been trying not to think of sat across from him with a rather knowing smile. It couldn't get any worse he thought.

"Don't let me stop you two. I haven't read a good yaoi manga for ages. And you two would make a hot couple!" She grinned at them and Van cringed as Dilandau's arm tightened around his shoulders, further entrenching in his personal space.

"I'm…we're…not. He just…" His face flushed and he knew it could always get worse where Dilandau was concerned. A part of him cringed in embarrassment at the smile on her face, but it seemed she had some mercy for him as she replied, "No worries Fanel-san, Dilandau can get a little over-friendly at times. Play nice Dilly!" Van watched in amazement as Hitomi pointed her spoon at his groper who withdrew his arm from his shoulders and moved across the table to sit beside her obediently.

Those crimson eyes that glittered with something that Van really didn't want to think about watched him and it was only his pride as a Fanel that kept him from creeping away and running from the room altogether. Somehow he didn't have much of an appetite anymore. He hazarded a look over at Dilandau—

Damn, he couldn't leave without making it look like he was admitting defeat and the smug bastard knew it. Once again, Van asked himself why he didn't just severe all ties with _that_ Albatou.

What was Zaibach's policy on murder?

The soft murmur of the voices of the other members of their group reached his ears and Van knew that his fate was sealed. Biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a groan, he eyed his tarnished knife and fork.

If he didn't pick those up and start eating soon he was going to get all sorts of weird looks.

A sudden snort had him whipping his head up so that he could glare at the culprit.

And noticed that she was wearing a v-neck that was currently showing an ample amount of cleavage. Dear gods the flashbacks from their encounter the night before ran to the front of his mind, smashing against his skull and jack-knifing. And of course his conscience dryly informed him he had seen more than that last night. Was it acceptable to glare at someone he had known for just over twenty-four hours? Surely Hitomi-san would understand the family temper, or was Folken mellowing as he got older?

"Was it really so terrible, Fanel-san?" The look on Hitomi's face as she leaned forward—damn it, it wasn't his fault that his gaze was drawn down _there_—with both elbows on the table.

Van decided that it wasn't his fault that her breasts were pressed close enough together that he could make out the black lace lining of her bra. Her voice drew his attention back to her face, and he swallowed thickly at the way she regarded him with one raised brow. There was something so evil, so much that it reminded him of Dilandau, about the smirk that her (_Kissable! _His hormones supplied gleefully) lips curved up into that it made him want to hide.

"Wow, you really do have a one track mind." Hitomi picked up a french toast stick from her plate, swirling it generously in the syrup, before taking a bite in a way that had Van swallowing thickly. Of course, then she had to _groan_. "Oh, gods! This is real maple syrup. I haven't had any in ages." Her eyes half fluttered close in a way that did _nothing _for Van's sanity.

XXX

He still remembered the exhibition that had occurred at breakfast. It was definitely a good thing his sister had talked to someone other than him or he wouldn't have been able to answer. He could still picture her rose pink tongue sliding out of her mouth and licking a drop of maple syrup hovering on the edge of her bottom lip. Van definitely needed more than a cold shower. And how long had it been since he had … not that it mattered. For some jarring reason that he couldn't define, he knew that even in a room full of strippers and lap-dancers, he still would have focused all his attention on Hitomi Kanzaki.

Thinking on it, he could recall his brother mentioning her. Apparently she had talked a museum curator in Basram into letting them examine letters written from the Emperor of Zaibach at the beginning of the Era of Science to the then ruler of Basram. Folken had sounded so astounded at the time, but it hadn't seemed very impressive to Van then. In reflection he could completely understand the awe. It wasn't just because of the glimpse he had gotten of her last night. She had something about her that made it seem as if Royalty would bow down to her.

But he had found his curiosity about her growing as Folken had told them about their plans for the day. An archaeologist would be meeting them out in the desert on a dig. For some reason he had noticed immediately the difference between Hitomi's expression and the other fossil dorks as Allen had christened them. Where the twins and Dilandau had broken into excited chatter as apparently Zaibach archaeological digs were very rarely exhibited to academics from other countries, the emerald eyed girl had looked worried, if not downright unhappy about the trip. Van supposed that maybe she was uncomfortable in the country bordering on a dictatorship.

After they had all finished breakfast his attention turned swiftly to avoiding Dilandau's wandering limbs, having pulled his knees as close to him so the silver haired pervert wouldn't try and instigate a game of footsy under the table. He had repacked his belongings quickly, though as he spotted a book that was notoriously placed in every hotel room in the country Van wondered whether to take it with him or not. The Red Book, beholden in the country, written by its leader, barely concealing their dictatorial hold over the country to outsiders, was full of propaganda. On the one hand Van was curious to see how far the brainwashing went in the book and if the traps were obvious, but it would also probably be a long ride into the desert and he liked to have something to read on long journeys. But Van had been told by his brother from the few trips Folken had made to this semi-enclosed country that tourists were often treated with suspicion if they showed interest in anything political or military.

So he decided to leave the burdensome book on the nightstand and trawled down the corridor to the lift. A pensive haze drew over him as he tried to absorb everything that had happened since yesterday. So he barely registered the imploring yell before him, "Hold the doors!" Not making a move to press any button on the lift, Van could only stare as the girl who seemed to hover in the midst of his thoughts threw a heavy duffle bag into the lift before bolting into the metal box herself just as the doors closed behind her.

Still unable to take in what had just happened, he watched as she rested her hands on her thighs and breathed in deeply before stretching up to look at him.

It was so very strange but the hairs on the back of his neck bristled as her expression changed so swiftly. For a second it looked as if his brother's youngest assistant was going to reprimand him, but as she met his gaze she seemed to recoil and look away. As she turned away to look at herself in the mirror, he heard he murmur quietly, "Thanks for holding the doors." He felt as if she had elbowed him in the stomach with her somewhat annoyed tone but any chance he felt to apologize or say anything that wasn't a defence of his sexuality fell apart as the lift doors opened onto the ground floor. Calmly the girl next to him lifted her rather large and heavy looking bag onto one arm and swept past him.

Van had no chance to protect himself as once again the silver haired archaeologist flung himself against him and murmured in a faux whisper, though no doubt the occupants of the reception heard Dilandau ask brokenly, "Are you cheating on me lover?"

* * *

"...children's souls are the inheritors of historical memory from previous generations." - Hayao Miyazaki


End file.
